** 14 **

Stokes forced himself to go in the opposite direction to Tracy, she made him happy, her presence at his side kept him hopeful. Hanging on to that when they were apart became difficult and Stokes pushed away the fear that they might not survive the war. Images of the dead flooded his mind, riding a river of blood, floating past him as he stood on the shore, unable to help them. Children cried, pointing at him, blaming him.

The wall became his support, the concrete cool under his palm as he shook off the morbid imagery with Tracy's smile, the echo of her laughter, the feel of her skin under his fingers and the taste of her lips on his. She gave him the strength to keep moving. It worked, right up until he found Anderson sitting beside the bed of Captain Alenko.

The captain was asleep, or unconscious, alabaster skin stark against the grey of the blanket under his chin. Cheekbones jutted out, eyes were buried in deep sockets and Stokes couldn't stop the despair that came with knowing he fought for his life and might not win.

His gaze turned to Anderson who slouched over his knees, elbows on his thighs as his hands propped up his head. His eyes were closed. Stokes thought he might have been asleep until he pulled in a deep breath, turned his head and looked at him, dog tags tinkling as they hung from his fingers. Three sets. Three out of six so some were still hanging on.

'Stokes,' Anderson blew out the breath he'd just inhaled, 'are you good?'

'Fine, sir.'

'No you're not.' He scoffed a laugh. 'None of us are.' He looked at the dog tags in his hand, 'we won't be until this damn war is over, one way or another.'

Stokes could depress himself without help from his CO. He pulled himself erect, straightening his spine and pushing his shoulders back.

'How is Captain Alenko?'

'Don't know,' he shrugged and sat up in the chair, 'the doctors tell me we have to wait and see. I don't think they know either, they're just pumping him with fluids and medications.'

'Did you know him, sir?'

'Yeah, we served together a few years back, it's how I met his son, Kaidan, Major Alenko. Damn fine men, both of them.' He shot to his feet, the chair scraping the floor, grinding on Stokes frayed nerves, 'neither of them deserve this, hell, no-one deserves this.'

'Major Alenko is on the Normandy, isn't he?'

'Yes he is. I don't know how I'm going to tell him about this.' He waved his hand in the air, the clinking of dog tags following his movement.

'Don't tell him.' Stokes shook his head as Anderson stared at him. 'At least not until you know … .'

'You want me to lie to him?'

'No, sir.' He glanced at the man in the bed, 'he probably already knows his father is MIA, he doesn't need to know the condition we found him in. If he dies the major will remember him as he last saw him, not as a man tortured and dying slowly and painfully. If he lives he can talk to him once he's recovered. All I'm saying is that his son doesn't need to know immediately.'

'He has a right to know.' Deep lines etched themselves into Anderson's forehead.

Stokes ran his hand through his hair and paced slowly. 'When my parents had their accident my mum died at impact, but my dad didn't. The doctors told me he would likely pull through, that I hadn't lost both parents. We had no other living relatives so it gave me hope and I hung onto that, it meant we still had our dad to look out for us.'

He paused and stopped at the foot of the captain's bed. 'When he died three days later I didn't know what to do. I'd hung on to that hope, that chance that he would live, that I would get to see him healthy and on his feet. I hadn't given a single thought to what we would do if he died. The last image I have of him is the doctors and nurses trying to save him when the machines failed to help him, of him struggling for breath. It's what I remember first every time I think of him.'

He closed his eyes tight to drive away memory, opening them to once more stare at the man in the bed. 'I hadn't expected it because they told me he would be okay. I'd sat by his bed, held his hand and talked about what we'd do when he was back on his feet even though he couldn't respond. I told my sister he'd be fine, she hated me even more than I hated myself when he died.' Guilt ate at him as he realised that he'd done exactly that the day before, told Tracy these men would be alright but three were gone and more might follow.

He met the quiet stare of the man beside him. 'I wish he'd died in the accident. I wish I'd got there too late, that I hadn't had to watch him fight for life and lose, that I hadn't lied to my sister. It might sound selfish but I wish the doctors had told me the truth and not given me that false hope. If you tell Major Alenko his father is alive he will want to know details. If you tell him how we found his father he will have the image of him in pain and suffering alone. Does he need to add that to the horrors he's already seeing? Isn't it better for him to remember him the last time he saw him, alive and healthy?

'He will hold out hope even though he fears the worst. He will want to be here and can't be so he'll feel guilty, plus it will distract him, maybe cause him to make mistakes that could cost a life. It would be better to tell him his father is dead, even better to tell him he's going to live and mean it.' He looked back at the captain, 'I guess some would say I was lucky, I got to say goodbye. But I didn't because I expected him to live.' He turned to Anderson, 'just my personal opinion, sir.'

'You might be right,' the admiral sighed and rolled his shoulders, 'I'll think about it.' Dropping the dog tags into his pocket he turned and ushered Stokes towards the door. 'Buckner told me what you found, other than tortured men and people we couldn't help. The more you can get from this stuff the better chance we have. I'm fed up of fighting this war on two fronts, we need to take Cerberus out of the equation.'

'We'll get to work on it, sir.' Stokes nodded as they walked the corridor. 'How many people do you think know about Sanctuary?'

'Too many probably. Can't say I blame them for wanting to go there, it sounds safe and there are a lot of people looking for that right now. Unfortunately that means we have to save them from themselves.' They stopped outside his office, 'let me know when you've got something. We're moving on the Cerberus base tomorrow so any additional intel would help.' He glanced around as people passed by, 'we need to reach the Normandy, let them know what's going on, let Shepard know I'm alive.' He grimaced and Stokes knew exactly why. 'I guess I have to face the music at some time.'

'I'll get right on that, sir,' he said, laughing as Anderson scowled at him and waved him away.

'Matt.' Tracy's smile warmed him as he walked into what had become their office. 'I think we've found something.'

'We?' Stokes didn't need to look sideways to feel the excitement rolling of Sam. He logged into his console and his lips pursed as an intrusion notification popped up. Someone had tried to break through his encryption on classified files, surprisingly getting further than they should have. Stokes didn't have to guess at who.

'Yes, we.' She hit him playfully on the arm and pulled him to her console. 'Sam's been up half the night trying to break the Cerberus encryption.'

'Sam, you need to sleep,' Stokes reminded the eager young man. Giving him access to the Cerberus data could be a good thing, then again it could come back to bite them in the ass.

'I will, I just wanted to have a quick look.'

'And you ended up here all night.'

'Anyway,' Tracy pulled him back to the topic. 'Sam found the key embedded in the files. We're running a decryption program that will hopefully open everything up for us.' Tracy pointed to a screen that showed the progress. 'Might take a while but it's something.'

'Good job, Sam,' Stokes placed his hand on the younger man's shoulder, trying to bury the niggling voice in his head. 'It might just give us the break we need. We could do with some good news.'

'What's the Crucible?'

'That's highly classified,' Stokes said, a frown creasing his brow. 'You shouldn't even know about it.' For a split second doubt took control, could they trust Sam or had he been placed with them to access information. It bothered him that he thought that way, especially as he liked Sam, saw himself in him. Which was exactly why he would tighten his encryption.

'Yeah, I know, but I saw it there and well … it looked interesting.' The teenager shrugged and shuffled his feet.

'Sam,' Stokes met his eyes, 'don't go poking around in places you shouldn't, not now. I know it's exciting stuff and a challenge but it's classified for a reason.' He held up his hand as Sam's eyes dropped and his body posture followed. 'However, I think you're an intelligent kid,' Sam rolled his eyes and Stokes relaxed a little, 'and extra eyes might not be a bad thing. I'll run it by Anderson. But you need to stay out of it until he decides.'

'Okay,' he nodded and Stokes hoped he could take him at his word.

Tracy quickly covered her smile and put on a serious face as he turned towards her. He shook his head at her obvious support of Sam and while he understood the pull of discovering things he shouldn't it could put him in danger. If the wrong people found out Sam knew about the Crucible he would become a target. Stokes wanted to avoid the slightest risk to Sam's life. The consequences were too painful to contemplate. On the other hand, if Sam turned out to be a spy, unintentionally or not, things would not go well for him. And Stokes didn't want to contemplate that either.

'Anderson wants to contact the Normandy. Do we know where they are?' Stokes followed Tracy to a console as nausea washed over him.

'They were out following a lead to some species that might be an ally. Apparently they've been around as long as the Reapers. Uncle Steven sent them on what might be a wild goose chase.'

'If Hackett sent them there must be a good reason for it.'

'Maybe, but I bet it's frustrating the hell out of Andy.' She flicked a glance at him bright-eyed and a smile on her face. 'She'll just want to get this war over with, by winning it of course.'

'Can't say I blame her.' His heart beat in his ears, fluttered in his chest and his lungs didn't seem to work.

'Matt.' Her hand on his arm made him look at her.

'Sorry, the last couple of days … .' He stopped. His throat tightened and closed, his body screamed for air and he gripped the console, his fingers digging into the hard plastic as he struggled to breathe and saw stars.

'Matt.' Tracy talked through water, her voice muffled as she spoke calmly. 'Look at me, you need to breath, relax. You're okay, you're safe.'

Breath wouldn't come. His heart pounded against his sternum, his whole body trembled as he crossed his arms over his chest. He couldn't die, not like this. Who would protect Tracy if he didn't? Who would make sure she survived the war? His chest heaved and burned as he dropped to his knees. Nausea raised a sweat.

'Breath, Matt, count with me.' He listened as she counted and her voice became his lifeline. She sat beside him as he flopped onto his backside and then his back, the cold floor drawing the heat from his chest.

'Stokes.' Buckner appeared at his feet as someone rushed to his side.

'Lieutenant,' Dr Wainwright drew his attention. 'I need you to relax, take slow, deep breaths. In. Out. In. Out. Focus on my voice.'

In. Out. In. Out. It wasn't working. The vice around his chest refused to release. In. Out. In. Out. His fingers tingled and he closed his eyes as the room spun. In. Out. In. Out. His lungs were on fire but he felt calmer. Tracy's hand in his gave him something to hang on to, her fingers wrapped around his were warm and comforting. Breathing came easier now and he concentrated on doing it. He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling as his senses returned. The muscles in his chest ached as he forced air into it, but the deep pain had eased.

'Matt?' Tracy leaned over him, the worry on her face bringing him back to full awareness.

'I'm okay,' he pulled in several deep breaths, blowing them out just to prove it to himself, before sitting up slowly, accepting Tracy's support as she gripped his arm. 'What's wrong with me, doc?'

'I'd say a panic attack.' Wainwright ran his omnitool over him before standing up.

'A panic attack?' He stood up, Tracy slid her hand around his back and he instinctively put his arm across her shoulder as his breathing settled into a more normal pattern and his heartbeat slowed. 'Why? What caused it?'

'Stress, exhaustion, sometimes nothing. It happens. I'm surprised I'm not seeing more of these considering the circumstances. You'll probably feel a little tired and you should try to relax, but you'll be fine. Come see me later and we'll run some tests just to be sure.' The doctor patted him on the shoulder and left.

'You good, Stokes?' Buckner waited for him to look him in the eye.

'Yeah,' he straightened and let go of Tracy. 'Sorry,' he dropped his eyes to the floor.

'You have nothing to be sorry for.' Tracy cupped his chin and made him look at her.

'She's right, Stokes,' Buckner added his support. 'Like doc said, it happens. Shit, why wouldn't they, the stress we're dealing with, the things we're seeing.' He pointed his thumb at Sam who stood in the doorway. 'Kid's smart, ran for help.'

'Thanks Sam.' Stokes nodded at him.

'I'll let you get back to work.' Buckner turned and left.

'Maybe you should go rest,' Tracy suggested.

'No, I need to work.' Having something to concentrate on would be better than sitting alone, thinking about everything else. 'We need to contact the Normandy for Anderson.'

'Okay,' she rubbed his arm but before she could move away he grabbed her and wrapped his arms around her.

'Thank you.' He kissed her gently and she leaned into him.

'You have nothing to thank me for.'

'And that's my cue to leave,' Sam's amused tone caused them both to turn towards him. 'I think I'll go catch up on some sleep.'

'He's a good kid,' Tracy said once he'd gone, still leaning against his chest.

'Yeah, but we need to be careful.'

She pulled back and looked at him, 'you don't trust him?'

'Yes, no, I don't know.' He sighed and rubbed her back, 'I don't want to see him hurt, or worse. I know you want to support him but poking his nose into places he shouldn't could be dangerous for him, or for us.'

'I get it,' she kissed his chin and he smirked. 'We'll keep an eye on him.' She pulled him down for a lingering kiss before letting go and stepping back. 'Now, I believe we have a ship to find.'

Stokes watched her move to a console, the swing of her hair, the tilt of her hips the fluid movement of her fingers all enticing and beautiful. He loved her with every ounce of his being and it overwhelmed him. Before his emotions could send him spiralling out of control he moved to his own console, trying to ignore the soreness in his chest which he rubbed without realising, and the thought that panic attacks could make him unreliable in the field. That Anderson might pull him off the active roster. That he might be relegated to a support role.

He needed to be in the field, needed to do everything possible to keep Tracy, and others, safe. He loved his tech but being out there actively seeking out threats, wiping them out before they became a problem – he wouldn't give that up. He would go and see Wainwright later, the doc would have already filed a report but he had to make sure the doc knew he had to stay on the roster. He needed it to get him through this war with his sanity intact.

'I've found them,' Tracy's excitement pulled him out of his head.

'And?'

'We should be able to reach them, looks like they're headed back to the Citadel.'

'Let's make it happen then,' he grinned as she rolled her eyes at him. He opened a com to Anderson, 'sir, the Normandy will be in range shortly. We'll open up a connection when you're ready.'

'On my way.'

Stokes couldn't decide if the admiral sounded relieved or anxious. Tracy laughed and he glanced at her.

'Andy's going to give him an ear bashing.'

'Yeah, I think he knows that.'

'It will be good to hear from them though.' He heard the concern in her words and reached across to place his hand on her shoulder.

'They'll be fine. They're good soldiers, every one of them is good at their job. They wouldn't be on the Normandy otherwise.'

'I know.'

'Alright, let's make this happen.' Stokes walked into the QEC room with Tracy on his heels. 'Let's brighten everyone's day.'